


A Song For A Storm

by Omoni



Series: Abovetale [32]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, F/F, F/M, Happy, Multi, silly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omoni/pseuds/Omoni
Summary: For her tenth birthday, Storm Dreemurr has only one request, one she knows she needs to work for. She just hopes her parents agree.





	A Song For A Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trash_Nicky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Nicky/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Trash-Nicky! I wasn't sure what to write, until I remembered something we talked a out a while ago, and I knew I had to. I hope this lives up to it, and you like the little Easter (hatched) egg at the end :3

Storm didn't know when it started, but to be fair, she also didn't really care. What mattered most was _now_ , not _how_.

Maybe it had been when she was a baby. She'd been told she was an active baby – though Basket rephrased it as “demonicly active”; she often went outside, purposefully getting lost until she could find her way home – only to do it again, a different way, the next time she could.

Her parents usually had to take turns babysitting her during the day, or, if they were all working (or needed a break), Undyne would step in.

Storm loved spending time with her grandmother. Now that she was retired, Undyne had all the time in the world, for both her and Dandelion (though by now, Dandelion was already making plans to move out, as soon as her job went full-time).

The best part was that, for Undyne, anytime Storm stayed over, she was so happy about it. She adored Storm, spoiled her rotten and bragged about it, taught her how to play the piano (she was _excellent_ at this, as well as singing, and yes; Mettaton was overjoyed), or how to run-by-punch someone.

Some of that exasperated Storm's parents, but all had agreed that, really, it was fine; Undyne knew kids well, by now, and knew their limits and their strengths. So while Storm sometimes came home with bandages on her knees, or with a few music books, or with a sore belly after too many sweets, everyone still agreed that Undyne was the best babysitter that they could ever ask for.

Since some of that time was spent outdoors, regardless of the situation, maybe it was for that reason; proximity. But Undyne never really pointed anything like that out to Storm, so perhaps not.

But how didn't matter.

By the time she was about to turn ten, she knew.

She wanted a pet bird. _Desperately_.

But she was, for the first time, too shy to ask.

Storm was anything but subtle when it came to wants and needs, so if there was something she wanted, she would become an absolute _menace_. Either she would pester and request and whine and shriek about it, or she would be her version of subtle, by laying out hints and notes and pictures of the requested want or need, on nearly every single flat surface she could possibly find.

But this time, she knew it was different. A bird was a living creature, and, varying by type, it was also a smart one, too. She knew it would be a huge amount of responsibility, and she knew that she had to be prepared to commit herself to the care of a bird, which meant sacrifices and frustrations at times.

Storm _was_ a wild child, one surrounded by endless and unconditional love. She was incredibly lucky – and she actually knew it, by now, too. She knew she had everything she could ever want or need, and she did feel a pang of surprising guilt when she thought of that. She wasn't exactly _arrogant_ , but she grew up with so much love that she loved herself, too - something that was actually _very_ good. She wasn't vain, but she was aware that her unusual features were both pretty and weird, and she liked that. She was lazy, but not to the point of neglect.

But she was also self-aware, and knew it was a big gift to ask for, even if she hadn't been who and what she was. She wanted to prove it not only to her parents, but to herself, too, that she had what it took to be a bird's mother, and that it wasn't just that confidence talking.

A few months before her tenth birthday, when she decided for sure of what she wanted, she hid it. She spent her free time studying as much about birds as possible, glued to the family tablet (she wasn't old enough for her own phone, yet) or laptop, almost all the time, her unique eyes darting all over, behind her thick glasses.

Whenever anyone asked her what she was doing, she just said, “Studying.”

It _was_ the truth, if not the _entire_ truth, and despite her upbringing, Storm learnt early how useless and harmful it was to lie.

Storm then started reading books about all kinds of birds, spending hours on end in a chair, or on the couch, or a few times during dinner (it didn't last, because all three of her parents were annoyed by it).

By the time she was a week from her birthday, she knew: she _could_ do it.

This wasn't just confidence, either. She'd become a silent expert, her mind as quick and as sharp as Alphys's, and she knew the answers to any kind of questionable scenario. She even knew _exactly_ the kind of bird she wanted, down to the age _and_ colour.

And she was so excited.

For that whole week, she sat poised and ready, waiting for the usual question of: “Well, it's a week away, now; what would you like for your birthday?”

But... nobody asked her, this year.

Not even Undyne.

Storm was so stunned that she didn't even have the ability to protest, or to scream the answer out, anyway.

She was... hurt. She was _deeply_ hurt by this.

Finally, the day before, an hour after supper, Storm did manage to burst out, “My birthday _is_ tomorrow, right?”

Honestly, by then, Storm was starting to doubt it, despite knowing better.

“What? Yes, of course,” Basket answered, blinking at her with confusion. “Why on earth would you ever think it wasn't?”

Storm opened her mouth and tried to protest, but nothing came out. She was shocked. That hurt worsened, and though Basket was clearly waiting for her to answer – almost seeming as if she _wanted_ her to – Storm turned around and ran to her bedroom, then slammed the door, locking it.

She spent the rest of the night in bed, ignoring each parent stubbornly, alternating between hurt years and furious waves of betrayal. She was so distraught that, by the time she realised she was hungry, she was too drained to move, and simply fell asleep.

* * *

Though Storm's door had a normal lock, it was one that was easily unlocked by magic.

A few hours after she passed out, Basket broke in to check on her, deeply worried by now.

She slipped in and closed the door silently, then turned the light off and tiptoed over to the bed, kneeling down beside it and on the floor. She then sat up and moved closer, looking Storm over carefully for any signs of something wrong.

Storm was not only still dressed, but still wearing her glasses, though they were crooked, now, thanks to sleepy movement. Basket could tell she'd been crying, and felt guilt sweep through her.

Basket sighed, then pulled Storm's glasses off and into their case. She then moved the laptop off of the bed and closed it, before grabbing the kicked-off blanket and wrapping it around Storm, instead. Her hand lingered in Storm's hair, more guilt crunching up her gut, and she bit her lip and snuck back out.

Both Nicky and Olceal were waiting for her, both looking pretty much how she felt.

They all felt bad, now, as what they'd hoped would've been a great surprise ended up being a source of woe, and it wasn't fun, anymore.

“Crying and passed out,” Basket reported, slumping over. “Fuck...”

Olceal hugged her, and she leaned on him, once again stifling her tears. “Okay, we blew it,” he agreed, stroking Basket's short hair, like peach fuzz the lower his hand went, but longer and spiky at the top. Doing that comforted them both, and for a moment, Basket sighed, closing her eyes.

“Yeah,” Nicky agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay. We should've asked. That was how we fudged it the most.”

“Okay, but...” Olceal started, before he sighed. “Okay, wake her up.”

“No, don't,” Nicky protested, right when Basket was about to. Both she and Olceal looked at her, and she went on, her face set and determined. “We've already gone this far. And think of it this way: the morning will be _twice_ as surprising for her.”

It was exactly right, and Nicky soon found herself cookied – what they called their own brand of three-way hug – and smiled faintly, relieved that they agreed.

“Okay, then,” Olceal said after a moment, the first to pull away. “Let's do this.”

* * *

Storm woke up slowly, her first thought one of complete and utter confusion. It wasn't because she was tucked in, or that her clothes were still on but her glasses weren't.

It was because she had absolutely no clue why she was awake at all. She hadn't set her alarm, and it was barely an hour after dawn, and on a Sunday.

She was about to get angry, especially when she remembered it was her birthday, now, and that made her feel even worse.

But then, she froze, catching something out of the corner of her eye.

At first, Storm was certain she was still dreaming. She _had_ to be, right? There was no _way_ that what she was seeing was true.

But when she stood up and slowly turned around, shoving her glasses back onto her face, there was no way she was dreaming.

There, right under her window, was a birdcage.

One she recognised.

And within that cage was, in fact, a bird.

The exact bird she'd chosen, and had wanted so much.

And of course, because she was who she was, instead of doing anything normal, Storm stared at the bird, stood up tall, and _screamed_.

Her three parents woke up from that, all three waking to various degrees of shock – but not surprise.

When they reached their daughter's room, Storm was laugh-crying, her hand already in the cage. She hadn't touched her new charge, yet, knowing that he needed time to get used to her, but it was a start.

She didn't care. She had all the time in the world, now.

When she noticed them watching her, she turned around, pulled her hand away, and shrieked out, _“YOU ARE HORRIBLE SNEAKS AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!”_

She'd collided into them by the time she had finished, and they hugged her tight. She felt overjoyed, once again realising how lucky she was, to have parents like hers, and she loved them even more, now.

They not only _had_ known the whole time, but had been watching her closely, too. All three had discovered it one night, when Olceal mentioned that the family tablet had bird wallpaper on it, now, and Storm was the obvious culprit. Because it was a family tablet, _everyone_ had access to it.

Storm hadn't even thought of that, and it embarrassed her a little, thinking of other searches she now knew weren't private.

But it didn't last.

Within the hour, Storm's new bird, a beautiful grey-blue male songbird she named Mentos, now perched on her shoulder, or head, and with obvious pleasure, too.

Already, Mentos knew he was with his true mother, and Storm was happy to be that mother.

**\--THE END--**


End file.
